


Stevus Interruptus

by GoodbyeBlues



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Captain America!Steve, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate conversations regarding cereal, Kellogg's Corn Flakes, Kind of a meet-ugly really, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, SWAT Team!Bucky, Shrunkyclunks, Steve is adorably infuriating, Swearing, modern!Bucky, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: “What the fuck is happening out there?” He shouted into his comm.“Sarge, I think,” Dugan’s voice paused in his ear. “I think Captain America is here?”Bucky Barnes is a SWAT Team member just trying to do his job. Too bad a certain Captain keeps interrupting all of his missions.





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes took a deep breath, raised his gun, and kicked the door in.

 

It slammed back against the wall as he began to move, his team swarming in behind him, an air of cool efficiency thrumming through him as the room erupted into a perfect blend of control and chaos.

 

Bucky lived for this, this heart-pounding, euphoria inducing chase. He lived for this so much in fact, that he had spent the last two years of his life working towards this singular moment. Two years of building trust and making connections, of missing birthdays and family dinners, to be able to storm this shithole of a warehouse and arrest the fuckers he had been metaphorically ass-kissing for the past 24 months.

 

His pulse hummed gleefully and his hands remained steady as he turned and trained his weapon on Alexander Pierce, standing to the left in the room, currently drawing a gun out from under his jacket. Pierce hesitated momentarily when he noticed him, the shock of betrayal flashing in those old blue eyes being all the payment Bucky needed for a job well done. Two years it cost him to earn that look, and he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Bucky opened his mouth, about to issue the order for Pierce to drop the weapon, when a dirty window at the back of the room exploded inward, a burst of glass and a large metal disc spraying onto the floor suddenly. Bucky’s internal stopwatch calculated that it had been less than ten seconds since their team had entered the room, and he quickly ran through the specs in his head one more time even though he knew every expected moment by heart, had run it over and over in his mind for the past two weeks.

 

This was very much not part of the plan.

 

* * *

  

Steve sighed, rolled his shoulders, and threw his shield through the window.

 

He thought about maybe stopping at Starbucks on the way home as he climbed through the frame and absently elbowed a goon in the face before remembering he didn’t bring his wallet with him today. He smashed two more heads together while debating over whether it would be unethical to try to get a free drink if he played up the Captain America angle, and decided it probably would be. Fuck though, he really could go for an Espresso Frappuccino right now. His stealth suit was hot and this gross little factory was sweaty with mobster bodies. Drug trafficking mobster bodies, no less, who had evidently been in the middle of a game of blackjack before being interrupted. Steve almost snorted a laugh before incapacitating another greasy thug. Gambling, cigar smoking mobsters. He felt like he was in a bad movie. He scanned the room quickly for a print of dogs playing poker, but couldn’t find one. Damn. So close to hitting the nail right on it’s stereotypical head.   

 

He moved easily through the space, ignoring the clap of gunshots in the distance, grabbing his shield from its landing place and quickly removing weapons from sweaty hands before throwing down the bruisers who held them. He only noticed the SWAT team as he moved closer to the entrance of the building, and from the looks of things, their plan was not going well. At all.

 

* * *

  

This was not going well. At all.

 

Bucky was currently pressed behind a support pillar, taking cover as a slew of bullets tried their best to find their way into his flesh.

 

The crash at the back of the warehouse had thrown everyone off for a moment, and that moment was all Pierce had needed to duck out while his team of assembled meat-heads covered his exit with gunfire. Bucky had no choice but to throw himself out of the line of fire while waiting for the second wave of officers to move in.

 

“What the fuck is happening out there?” he shouted into his comm.

 

“Sarge, I think,” Dugan’s voice paused in his ear. “I think Captain America is here?”

 

Bucky resisted the urge to pound his head into the pillar in front of him. Bullets continued to cut through the air on either side of him, but he couldn’t really give a shit anymore.

 

Pierce had gotten away.

 

Because his op had been interrupted.

 

By Captain America.

 

Two.

 

Fucking.

 

Years.

 

“Fuck!” Bucky gave in and his helmeted head became one with the wall.

 

Also wall, meet fist.

 

“FUCK!”

  

* * *

 

Steve was handing off the last of the sweaty goon crew to a SWAT team member when a fist connected with his back. Surprisingly hard too.

 

“Jesus Christ!”

 

Steve spun to see one of the SWAT members rip his helmet off before shaking his hand out and clutching it to his chest.

 

“Motherfucking WALL!”

 

Steve squashed down his level of surprise (punches from non-enhanced humans were few and far between these days, he thought nostalgically), as he leaned back into his patented Captain America stance - arms crossed, head tilted down, eyes narrowed, that old bit - and took in his assailant. SWAT gear covered a well built body, dark brown hair flowing down to an enticingly cut jawline. Gorgeously pouty lips continued pumping out a rather impressive stream of profanity as the man glanced down at his injured hand before snapping his gaze up to Steve’s face.

 

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he was met with the most turbulently captivating  blue-grey eyes he’d ever come across. His brain went instantly to thoughts of molten lead cascading into the Arctic ocean, bullets and glaciers, a winter-silver moon reflected on ice. His body, on the other hand, stood there like a dummy.

 

“Can I help you?” Steve finally forced the words past the dryness of his mouth.

 

“Can you help me? Jesus fucking Christ Captain, dontcha think you’ve helped enough already?” This guy was not backing down, despite the obvious hand injury. Also, was Steve’s back really that hard?

 

“Did you just break your hand punching me?” Steve asked, trying to steer his mind away from eyes that looked like snowflakes in a lightening storm. Steve wasn’t a poet. So sue him. And if his back really was that strong, he kinda wanted to know. Research and such. Information gathering. Nat would be proud.

 

SWAT guy gave him an incredulous squinty-eyed look. “Wha- No, I broke it punching the wall first. Obviously.”

 

“Obviously?” Steve questioned.

 

“Yes.” The guy huffed, causing a few strands of rich chocolate hair to flip out, and scrubbed his uninjured hand over his face in a youthfully exasperated motion. The word _adorable_ flashed through Steve’s mind, objectively, of course. He was a professional. Who did not stare weirdly at beautiful eyes, belonging to a beautifully angry man...

 

...Time to get back on track.

 

“Why did you punch the wall?” Steve was Mr. Twenty Fucking Questions today, apparently, but at least it broke the increasingly awkward silence.

 

That incredulous grumpy cat look was back. “Because you blew the op!”

 

“Urm.” Steve glanced around the room and gestured to the remaining mobsters being ferried out to various police vehicles. “I’d call this a pretty successful mission. Seemed like half the criminal population of New York was here tonight.” _Good job Steve_ , he mentally applauded himself. _That sentence was not a question. It was practically a fact._

 

“Yes, _sir_.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose and looked back up at Steve, unaware of what that _sir,_ even steeped in sarcasm, had done to Steve's nerve endings. “And who do you think got them here tonight? Who do you think set this whole evening up, over the course of two goddamn years, before you came crashing through the wall like the fucking Kool-Aid man, losing the biggest fucking criminal of them all in the process?”

 

“Ah.” Steve replied, understanding dawning. “Hence the wall punch.”

 

“Hence the wall punch.”

 

* * *

 

Steve stopped at Starbucks on the way home and got a free Frapp. Fuck it.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's attempts to apologize and maybe-kinda-flirt are not so great. But he tries, dammit, he tries.

Bucky adjusted his legs slightly, his eyes never leaving the scope of his rifle. His finger itched to settle over the trigger, but it was too soon. He knew to wait for his moment.

 

He had been back to work with his regular unit since the failed warehouse sting two months ago, although he seemed to be the only one who thought ‘failed’ applied to the scenario that had played out. ‘A Tactical Success’ the papers had supplied, ‘the biggest criminal takedown of the decade’ said the newscasters, and even his head officer hadn’t been able to suppress a twitch of the mouth at the numbers they had reported that month. They had done well. Really well. But Pierce had gotten away, and it still gnawed at him. He had an inkling he knew how Captain Ahab felt in his pursuit of the white whale now.

 

Bucky brought his mind back to the present and slowed his breathing. The hostage situation had started earlier that afternoon, and Bucky had been camped on an adjacent rooftop for the last two hours, waiting for a signal. He hated these situations, he always did, but the reassuring weight of the rifle in his hands was like the company of a long-lost friend. His two years undercover had him using handguns and knives mostly, and he was content to be back in his element. This was where he excelled.

 

Movement at the window had him speaking softly into his comm. “Action on the south side,” he reported, body tuned in, gaze sharpening until nothing in the world existed but his mark.

 

“Hold fire.” came the immediate reply in his ear piece. “We have confirmation there is a friendly body in the building. Wait for them to engage.”

 

“A friendly-what?” Bucky questioned as the door to the roof slammed open and out stepped Captain America, leading their mark out onto the rooftop and pressing him to his knees with his hands behind his head.

 

SWAT members poured out of the corridor behind him, cuffing the man and leading him back down the stairs. Bucky stood from his position and watched the Captain scan the neighbouring rooftops until his gaze seemed to fall directly on him. He threw a little half-assed salute in Bucky’s direction, and Bucky didn’t need his rifle scope to see the shit-eating grin that adorned the Captain’s face. Bucky couldn’t help the slight curve of his lips as he flicked a middle finger in his direction before turning and packing up his gun kit. What a fucking guy.

 

* * *

 

 

There were too many kinds of breakfast cereal these days.

 

Steve stood in the grocery store aisle trying to discern the difference between the five different types of corn flakes the store offered. That number didn’t even include the frosted variety. Christ.

 

“A little too much self-love happening at your place Cap?” A voice spoke up from behind him.

 

A little shiver zipped it’s way down Steve’s spine. SWAT Team guy.

 

Steve had flicked him a sarcastic salute last month on a whim, and hadn’t been able to keep the grin off his face as he received a friendly ‘fuck you’ in response. His sketchbook may or may not have been filling up with a wicked grin, intense eyes and a sharp jaw since that last glimpse. It could have been anyone’s face though, really, filling those pages up. There was no actual proof of who it could be. For sure.

 

But now SWAT guy was here in the flesh, asking him, well... something.  

 

“Come again?” Steve felt a smile tugging at his lips as he turned, hands full of breakfast options.

 

“The cereal,” Mischievous blue-grey eyes nodded towards Steve’s armload. “You having some sort of personal crisis? Trying to drive those sins of the flesh away for good?”

 

Steve blinked. “What exactly are you talking about?”

 

SWAT guy blinked back, his face flushing slightly. “You know, why Corn Flakes were originally invented.” He scuffed his boot across the linoleum, suddenly ...shy? Huh.

 

“Guess I missed that day in history class,” Steve replied easily. “Care to enlighten me?”

 

“Uh. Yes.” SWAT guy’s shoes were so interesting suddenly. “They were made to, uh, prevent. You know.” A swallow. “Masturbation.”

 

“What!?” Steve’s boxes hit the floor as a larger than life laugh pushed it’s way out of his chest. What the actual fuck?

 

SWAT guy finally lifted his gaze from the floor, cheeks brushed with pink. “I’m not lying,” he defended quickly. “It’s a real fact.”

 

“I never said you were lying,” Steve was almost doubled over now. “It’s just, who would’ve ever thought cereal had an effect on something like that?”

 

“Dr. Kellogg, of course.” SWAT guy’s slightly pained expression melted into a grin before he bent down to pick up the fallen boxes.

 

“Of course,” Steve replied, taking a few of the packages from well-toned arms. “Remind me again, on a scale of Dr. Oetker to Dr. Pepper, just how doctor-y was Dr. Kellogg?”  

 

A small laugh burst through those pink lips, and Steve knew he was in trouble here.

 

“I think he’s probably closer to Dr. Phil actually,” he chuckled before reaching his hand out. “I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself. Bucky Barnes.”

 

Steve shifted his own remaining boxes before meeting the grip. “Steve Rogers.”

  


Steve bought the Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, the cereal doing absolutely nothing to quell his desire in the shower that night. And if he thought of a certain smiling face that evening as he leaned against the tiled wall. Well. There was no proof of who that was either.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s forehead hit the table with a resounding thunk.

 

“So let me get this straight.” Becca paused for a moment to take another sip of coffee before continuing.

 

They were in their usual booth at the diner for their bi-weekly Sunday brunch/bitch session. Bucky had missed this while he was undercover, but couldn’t for the life of him remember why at the moment. Why he had decided to fill Becca in on his disastrous grocery store run-in was also beyond him. Maybe all the caffeine he had consumed that day was finally getting to him.

 

“So you see Captain America in the cereal aisle, and decide to approach him to apologize for, what again?”

 

“For punching him.” Bucky was speaking directly to the table top at this point.

 

“Right,” Becca picked back up, “For punching Captain America, with an already broken hand no less, and somehow instead you managed to infer that he has an addiction to masturbation?”

 

Bucky picked his head up off the table slightly. “He had, like, five different boxes of Corn Flakes Becs! What was I supposed to say?”

 

“Literally anything else!” She practically yelled across the booth.

 

A few other patrons swiveled their eyes towards them, and Becca cleared her throat before resuming a more normal volume.

 

“What happened after?”

 

“Nothing.” Bucky shook his head. “He was polite, he shook my hand and apologized for interrupting my op before high-tailing it out of there. I don’t blame him. For running. Or for the op actually. We were both trying to accomplish the same thing in the end. Just shitty timing, was all.”

 

Becca nodded sympathetically. “So when are you gonna see him again?”

 

Bucky tilted his head. “What?”

 

“When are you gonna see him again?” She repeated. “You obviously like him. Otherwise you wouldn’t care this much.”

 

“Probably never. I insulted a national icon, remember? After punching him and yelling at him. I’ve developed a patented three-tier humiliation system here Becs. And you wanna take it all away from me? While I’m on the cusp of glory?” He hoped his stellar distraction techniques were keeping Becca from realizing he couldn’t deny the likeability of one Steve Rogers.

 

“You’ve developed a raging boy-crush, more like.” She smirked at him.  No such luck, it seemed.

 

Bucky threw a hash brown at her and she squawked before attempting to bat it away. He was suddenly reminded why he missed this.

 

* * *

 

Steve ducked and rolled as another airborne robot-nunchuck thing flew over his head. He didn’t really know what the crazy super-villain weapon of the day was, and frankly, he didn’t really care right now, so long as he got this crowd of people out of the street.

 

He came up on his feet and sprinted down the sidewalk, ushering the last of the pedestrians into a nearby building.

 

“Clear on my end.” He spoke into his comm before circling back around. “Where’m I headed?”

 

“Take the next left, then two blocks up Cap. More civilians looking for a way out.” Sam’s voice was slightly breathless in his ear.

 

“On my way.” He kicked his speed up a notch as he headed up the street. “How long are we looking at before these things are shut down Tony?” He asked, dodging another flying terror device.

 

“Doing great here Cap, thanks for asking.” Steve’s eyes rolled slightly at the reply as he continued to pound the pavement. “Jarvis is working on the override now. Give us ten.”

 

Steve nodded, though none of his teammates were in sight to see it. He had reached the next cluster of civilians and his game-face was back on.

 

There was a pile of rubble where one of the larger flying devices had smashed into the edge of a building, and a small group of people were being herded past it by a dark haired man into the cover of the next storefront. Steve almost smiled to himself; it was nice to see people being responsible for a change in the face of an attack, not gawking around with their cell phones out.

 

The man glanced over his shoulder briefly before dropping down quickly, grabbing a brick from the pile of refuse and hurling it directly towards Steve, all in the blink of an eye. Steve possessed a higher reaction time than most thanks the serum, but this move was so unexpected he didn’t get the chance the react. The brick flew directly over Steve’s shoulder, almost grazing his ear before slamming into a silently hovering alien device that had evidently been making it’s way towards him.

 

Steve watched it crash to the ground before turning back towards the man, having to do a double take when he recognized that appealingly familiar face.

 

“I’m sorry I punched you!” Bucky shouted at him over the wail of sirens and the general cacophony of noise that usually accompanied a downtown alien invasion.

 

“The Corn Flakes didn’t work!” Steve shouted back. And _oh my god,_ his brain-to-mouth filter screamed at him, _why Steve!? Why!?_

 

Bucky’s grin went from beautiful to absolutely wonderous at that, before he tucked himself into a more secure spot at the entrance of the building.

 

Steve took down seventeen more devices with well-timed shield throws before the remaining fliers dropped from the sky like lead weights.

 

“Thanks Tony.” Steve spoke before pulling the comm unit out of his ear as he began to walk towards Bucky. He didn’t really need to hear what would certainly be a sarcastic response anyways.

 

Bucky was absently brushing dust out of his hair when Steve approached, cool and composed in the wake of what most people would consider an eventful day, but his eyes were alight with what Steve hoped was more than casual interest.

 

“Do you like old motorcycles and giant sandwiches?”

 

Bucky eyed him thoughtfully before a small grin parted those perfect lips.

 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, in a moment of beautiful fate and timing, this was written before the Esquire Corn Flakes photo came out. If you haven't seen that photo of Chris Evans yet, please, please point your eyeballs towards this masterpiece:
> 
>  
> 
> Also, here's a shout out to Christina, for living the DFE life with me. She knows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-date, Steve and Bucky have another unexpected run-in, leading to a healthy dose of competition, against-the-wall kisses, and a good 'ol serving of warm-fuzzies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter, because I have no self-control and your awesome comments and kudos are giving me life! Thanks to everyone who commented, subscribed, and made me feel the love! 
> 
> Also please keep in mind that literally everything I know about Tactical Villages comes from that episode of Brooklyn 99 where they go to a tactical village. So yah... research isn't a super big part of my creative process I guess. Sorry in advance for any completely terrible inaccuracies! 
> 
> Enjoy Chapter 3!

Bucky may have had stars in his eyes. Just a few though. Like three to four stars, tops. Because how do you manage to go on the best date of your life with Steve Rogers and not develop a small galaxy of stars? You don’t. But Bucky was cool. So he had maybe twelve to thirteen...hundred stars. Like less than an entire solar system, for sure. Yes. Definitely.

 

He was leaning on his desk, chin in his hand, contemplating his own expanding milky way, when his elbow was rudely pushed out from under him.

 

“Hey!” Bucky jerked upright before his face hit the desk.

 

“Someone’s happy.” Dugan’s (frankly outrageous) mustache twitched with amusement.

 

“And good fucking morning to you too,” Bucky tried to scowl at the intrusion, but the twinkle of nighttime illumination could not be deterred fast enough. His weird emotions resulted in a dopey grimace.

 

Dugan gave him a knowing smirk and jerked a thumb towards the briefing room. “Meeting in five to go over the tactical village session.”

 

“Right, got it.” Bucky nodded and drained the last of his coffee before standing, giving himself a mental shake. The tactical session they were due at tomorrow was designed to test them as a unit and keep their skills sharp, but the participating teams had become rather competitive over the years. Bucky knew his squad was going to bring home the prize this year though. He could feel it.

 

He gently set aside all post-date thoughts for further moon-eyed inspection before entering the briefing room, quietly determined to kick ass tomorrow. The session leaders always threw unexpected twists and turns into the mock runs to keep the participants on their toes, but Bucky’s unit had been working together flawlessly for months. Between that and today’s prep sessions, they had this in the bag. No problem.

 

* * *

 

Steve wasn’t sure if he was going to die from happiness or mortification first.

 

 _I live, I die, I live again,_ he thought passively, before registering how on the nose that statement was for himself. Ugh.

 

Steve was suited up and waiting for his cue at the SWAT tactical village. He was still riding high from a very successful (if he did say so himself) date two days ago with Bucky. The man was unlike anyone Steve had ever met before. He was wit and charm and lightening-quick reflexes, kitten-friendly with a panther’s strength and grace.

 

Steve had wanted the date to be memorable so had collected a favour from, surprisingly enough, JARVIS. The AI, while exceptional, had once misunderstood a request from Steve, resulting in him once being up one happy flippered mammal for an unexpectedly delightful afternoon, and lacking a simple wax adhesive to close up a handwritten letter to Peggy. He had gotten a _no questions asked, I-won’t-tell-if-you-won’t_ favour that he had finally cashed in on. Unlimited access to Tony’s garage had provided two beautiful classic motorcycles, and Steve’s own history in Brooklyn had provided the knowledge for the best damn sandwiches this side of the bridge. They had spent the day outside of the city enjoying the fresh air and open road, stopping whenever they saw fit to eat and chat and take in the scenery. They had ended the day by dropping Bucky’s chosen bike back at the tower before he had hopped on the back of Steve’s, headed for home. Having Bucky pressed tight to his back while the evening flickered around them as they sped down the city streets had taken Steve’s breath away. They had parted on Bucky’s doorstep after a lingering hug, an enduring grasp of hands, and Steve had pressed a small kiss to his temple before taking his leave. It would be too easy to get caught up in the feel of Bucky’s skin on his, the smell of his cologne and that practically sinful mouth almost overriding his common sense. They had time, and Steve wanted to do this right. Bucky deserved it.

 

Which is why it was so wrong that he was here today, effectively trying to stomp his _more than a friend but not a boyfriend’s_ chances at completing this training session within an acceptable time limit.

 

Steve had committed to this operation months ago when Pepper had mentioned police teams requesting assistance in training for ‘enhanced-being disturbances’ and Steve had been the logical choice to step in and help. With the increase of weird technology and super-beings in the city, he had been more than happy to offer some tips on training for these unique situations, until the day had actually come and Steve had learned Bucky’s unit was downstairs, about to complete a course that he had specifically designed to wreck any semblance of a good run time. The purpose of these sessions was to determine which teams could work under pressure and instinctively adapt to change when shit hit the fan, and Steve had set the fan to 10/10 on this one, shit locked and loaded, ready to fly.

 

He swallowed roughly and watched the monitors as the 107th Division took to the course. Bucky had no idea he was present at the moment, _so thank your choice of deity for small mercies_ , he thought. For now. Now being the next ten minutes. Because in eleven minutes, Steve became one of the obstacles.

 

Cue the fan.  

 

* * *

 

The 107th were on deck, watching the previous team filter out of the course. Coming out at a time of 35 minutes 45 seconds, they were well behind the usual numbers for the modules that usually ran in this building. They were still second overall though. Other teams had been coming out at up to 5 minutes slower, which was almost unheard of. Forty minutes to clear a small building? It didn't add up. Three of the competing teams hadn’t even managed to finish the course, the target somehow remaining elusive. The expressions of the teams exiting the session didn't exactly inspire confidence either. They looked exhausted, and frankly, a little shit-kicked. Bucky tried to keep from winding himself up as he bounced on the balls of his feet a little to loosen his body, also serving as his final shake test. Content with his level of stealth, he looked back up at the clock. They were up. Eyes on the prize and all that.

 

The whistle blew and his unit pushed forward, basic formation having been established long ago. They moved together fluidly, sweeping around corners quickly yet carefully, months upon months of working together having turned them into an efficient machine.

 

Ten minutes in and all the usual flash-bang-boom stuff had happened, as well as some enticing additions. Whoever had designed the course this year had done an excellent job. Bucky was rather taken with a moment 6 minutes 13 seconds in when fireworks were employed as a distraction technique as they were being swarmed by a group of ‘assailants’. The red, white and blue sparks had been fun _and_ festive.

 

They had one more floor left to sweep and mark, which meant approximately 6 rooms remaining. Based on the 5 minute situation briefing they had received earlier, the design of the building, and his team’s experience, they had decided on a hammer and anvil technique of progression. Bucky was on the clearing team which was tasked with driving the (still unknown) main threat back towards the second half of their strike team, who had entered at the rear of the building. He knew the remaining sweep would only take another 8-10 minutes maximum, and was not so naïve to believe the other teams had just been slow movers. Their final ‘bad guy’ was due to pop up any minute now.

 

A tingling sensation ran up his spine and he halted the group with a hand gesture before they could round the corner of what would logically be the next room to check. He couldn't put his finger on it, but that gut feeling had arisen and he knew to listen to it; It had saved his ass more than once. He motioned to the group and his instincts were confirmed - the other members were standing alert with uneasy expressions. They felt it too. They silently agreed to split off at the cross of the hallway they were currently at, giving half the team the advantage of rounding in from the back when they made their move. It was a risky strategy, as it would cost them precious minutes if they were wrong and the area ahead was empty, but Bucky would bet his first-born that things were about to come to a head. The air was practically vibrating with it.

 

Bucky steeled himself as the other group got into position, with the ‘anvil’ portion of the team ready to engage from the third side. The fourth wall faced the mock “alley,” no entrances, exits, or windows on that side, just good old brick and mortar. The only way out for their bad guy now would be through the ceiling to the roof. Bucky snorted internally. Like they'd use the roof. No normal human would be able to get up there without…

 

...Holy shit.

 

They were gonna use the roof.

 

Bucky motioned his intent rapidly before peeling off from the group and darting back the way they came. There was a fire escape positioned outside a window they had passed a few paces back. He slipped through and shot up the steps as quickly and silently as he could manage, already raising his dummy gun as he heard the rest of the teams engage on the comm unit. They were using a system similar to laser-tag guns and vests for keeping track of hits, the tiny pings of electronics going off in his ear as mock weapons were fired rapidly. The electric buzz of the weapons engaging abruptly ceased though, the sudden silence being overshadowed by the leaders of the 3 smaller groups barking orders at their respective teams, mixed in with the occasional grunt and thwack as what sounded like hand-to-hand combat took place. Jesus, how many pretend terrorists had been in that room?

 

“All weapons are down!” came a shout in his ear, and holy shit, this was getting insane and Bucky wasn’t even there to see it. He was making his way across the roof looking for an exit point still. He glanced down at his gun, a delightfully similar replica to what he would normally prefer on a mission like this, and noticed that indeed, the little green light indicating it was ready to use had gone dark. So they were facing off against what had to be at least one enhanced human (if jumping up to the roof to escape was actually in the cards), someone who preferred hand to hand combat and had access to funky enough technology that they could manage to jam dozens of guns in a split second. They also had an affinity for fireworks, red, white and blue, and while the course had been thoughtfully designed, it didn’t take itself too seriously judging by that one water obstacle and _holy Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker they were up against Steve fucking Rogers himself weren’t they._

 

The last piece of the puzzle slipped into place as Bucky found the spot he was looking for, a lone skylight ready to allow one Dorito shaped super-soldier to escape through after he handed an entire SWAT team their asses on a Depression-era platter. Said unfairly-proportioned Captain was currently wiggling his way up to the latch, stupid biceps bulging obscenely _(stay calm, body),_ having made what Bucky could have only guessed was a 20 foot jump to the high ceiling. Bucky was there to greet him of course, like any good _more than a friend but not a boyfriend_ would, with a fond smile and a boot to the face.

 

He knew his team would win this year.

 

* * *

 

Steve pressed Bucky back against the wall of the apartment, mouth and hands roaming wildly over his solidly built upper body. Bucky moaned lowly as Steve’s lips hit his throat just below his jaw, his breath becoming more audible as Steve added a gentle nip of teeth to the mix.

 

Bucky had fucking killed it in the afternoon’s training session, his team completing the course and apprehending Steve in an astoundingly impressive time. When Steve had looked up from his precarious position exiting the skylight and had seen Bucky ready to take him down, his stomach had flipped with excitement, pride, and something else not easily named, a foreign heat settling under his skin. Pure unfiltered _want_ was at the top of the ‘identifiable feelings’ list, he knew that. The other feelings that simmered low and warm in his belly?

 

... It wasn’t the time to be analyzing those things. Regardless of what any of those _things_ were called, it was a completely inappropriate response for a professional setting, and Steve had been chomping at the bit to end the briefing following the course’s completion before he embarrassed himself. One glance at Bucky had told him he hadn’t been alone in that sense. The man’s pupils had blown dark and wide when Steve had given him a firm handshake and a low “Well done, Buck,” before exiting the room. Steve could relate there; It had felt like his whole hand was going to vibrate off after that one simple touch.

 

Bucky had sent a short _‘My place’_ text following Steve’s exit, and Steve had been more than happy to oblige. He hadn’t even left the parking lot yet, had been sitting in his car trying to get a grip on himself instead. Things has escalated quickly after that.

 

Steve dragged his lips across Bucky’s slightly scruffy jawline one more time before pulling back slightly, foreheads resting together as both caught their breath.

 

“Let me buy you dinner.” Steve’s voice already sounded half-wrecked, and he swallowed roughly as he pulled back to look Bucky in the eye.

 

An amused moan, half arousal, half complaint, worked it’s way out of Bucky’s throat at that. “Why ya always gotta be such a gentleman, Stevie?” His Brooklyn accent was thicker now, and Steve had to close his eyes for a moment to gather some sense of control back. The sway of those words on top of the new nickname were doing some very ungentlemanly things to his body.   

 

“Nothing but the best for my best guy.” Steve decided to fight fire with fire and had dropped his voice lower, emphasizing his own accent in the process.

 

Bucky shivered beneath him and Steve pressed a final, restrained kiss to his perfect lips before pulling back fully. The loss of contact between their bodies was only slightly devastating, and Steve fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself in a half-assed attempt to preserve some of that delicious heat.

 

They stood there like idiots for a moment, a mini staring contest taking place as Bucky silently dared Steve to come back for seconds. Steve didn’t fuck around when it came to winning though, and raised one holier-than-thou blond eyebrow, causing Bucky to break first, finally rolling his eyes and suppressing a smile as he grabbed Steve’s arm, leading him into his small kitchen space.

 

“Come on, ya punk.” He brandished a stack of takeout menus like a magician offering cards, “pick one.”

 

* * *

 

Watching Captain America flop carelessly onto his shitty futon before proceeding to demolish an entire pizza on his own was quickly making Bucky a believer in some kind of higher power.

 

How he had ended up with this indescribable man on his couch was still beyond him, but that didn’t stop the warm-fuzzies from gathering in his chest at the sight of it. Sad puppy eyes suddenly took in Bucky’s own half finished plate on his lap (he hadn’t sat at his kitchen table in over 2 years and wasn’t gonna change now, ok?) and Bucky sighed in mock-defeat before sliding his remaining slice of pepperoni onto Steve’s conveniently outstretched plate. He didn’t know how many people got to see this Steve, this pain in the ass, adorably ridiculous Steve, but he bet it was a small number.

 

The gifted pizza slice was gone in the blink of an eye and Steve quickly took full advantage of the remaining couch space, lying down as much as his large frame allowed on the futon, head resting close to Bucky’s thigh, legs stretched out over the end. Bucky continued to watch in silent awe, a spectator at the greatest sport in the world, as Netflix questioned whether they were still watching and Steve’s face ran through a gauntlet of emotions, offended outrage being the most prominent. Heroic lips were pinched as one long but not-quite-long-enough arm reached towards the coffee table in a sad attempt to grab the remote. Two more useless hand swipes occurred, like a lazy cat not really caring to reach the dangling ball of yarn, before an exasperated sigh was let go from a super-soldier chest. Steve’s head tipped back finally, eyeing Bucky from upside down, and that distractingly pink mouth opened in what Bucky could only assume was going to be a plea for help.

 

“Oh my god Steve.” Bucky tried to keep the rising tide of affection out of his voice as he leaned forward and captured the remote, allowing them to continue watching. He settled back into his place, but not before repositioning Steve’s head into his lap, letting his fingers drift through soft golden hair. Steve sighed happily and melted further into the old springs. “Thanks Buck.”

 

“And you were supposed to be the gentlemanly one.” He huffed in fake annoyance, and could feel Steve’s grin deepen against his thigh. The warm-fuzzies resumed tenfold, and he was powerless against them. He gave into the feeling and slumped further down in his seat, content to ignore the rest of the world as long as he had Steve Rogers nestled against him.

 

They only made out on the couch like teenagers for half an hour later that evening, proving once and for all they were both 100% gentlemen, thank you very much.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't totally clear, Steve had asked JARVIS for a 'seal', which is where the misunderstanding arose from. Because when Captain America asks you for a seal, you don't ask questions, you get him a fucking seal. 
> 
> Homonyms are hard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve popping up unexpectedly once again leads to a revelation of feelings, some comforting moments, and Bucky letting his guard down, for better and for worse.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and frowned down at the paperwork on his desk.

 

There was no information there that he hadn’t already run through over and over, but maybe one more look, one more read through, would give him the epiphany he needed to figure out where Pierce was hiding.

 

He pulled out his file of Pierce’s property records for the last decade for what was probably the hundredth time and gave it another skim. The only thing even slightly remarkable was that Pierce had been listed as a joint-owner of an apartment complex over five years ago at a building in a less than desireable part of town, and the property had been sold again quickly only months after Pierce had made the purchase. The address had only come up once and as far as Bucky could tell, no ‘business’ had ever been conducted out of that location. It was a tiny 3 month oddity in a steady stream of other much larger purchases and sales, and unlikely to lead anywhere solid considering how much time had passed, but maybe Pierce still had a few connections there.

 

Knowing he was grasping at straws at this point, Bucky typed out an email to a colleague in another department asking them to find out more about the location, before rubbing his tired eyes. He hit send on the message to Brock before laying his head on the desk for a moment.

 

“Sarge, go home.” Dugan’s voice carried across the half empty station, jerking Bucky from his thoughts. Dugan had been on call with another team for the evening, and had every reason to still be lurking around the office at the late hour.

 

Bucky’s excuse? He figured ‘married to the job’ wouldn’t pass Dugan’s scrutiny, so he chose to keep quiet this time. He really must be tired.

 

He packed up his desk and said his goodbyes, stepping out into the night air. While it was summertime, he still felt a little chill seep through him. He was certain it had to do with the weather, though, and nothing to do with a tiny pang of loneliness for the seventh night in a row.

 

Steve had been away on Avenger’s ‘business’ for a week now, and while he hadn’t been a completely permanent fixture at Bucky’s place since the tactical village day a month ago, they had still spent more evenings together than not, sometimes going out, but usually ending up at Bucky’s place, watching Netflix between increasingly hot makeout sessions. Bucky fought the heat that started climbing up his spine just at the thought. Steve hadn’t been kidding about wanting to take things slow, and Bucky held no resentment there whatsoever. He had, however, been required to… look after himself more than usual, after Steve would leave each night, the memory of Steve’s breath in his ear, Steve’s hands on his body, pushing him over the edge the minute he was alone with one hand wrapped around his dick.

 

So, rather than sit at home next to the empty spot on his terrible futon, _Steve’s spot,_ his stupid heart reminded helpfully, he had jumped head first back into work. Spending an evening at his desk wasn’t completely out of the norm for him, but he had been keeping that pace for the last three nights in a row, and it was starting to wear on him.

 

He turned the corner, now only three blocks away from his apartment, when he heard a crash from the next street up. His senses sprang back to life as he sprinted up the poorly lit street towards the obvious sounding brawl taking place, slamming into what could have been a brick wall as he rounded the entrance to the alley. The wall was kind enough to reach out and steady him though, before Bucky looked up and saw the sun in the middle of the night.

 

“Steve?” He blinked a couple times. Was he having a stroke? Hallucinations? Becca had told him once that too much instant coffee would do that, but he hadn’t really taken it to heart, it was more of a comment on his caffeine addiction in general, surely, not an actual fact to be published in a medical journal-

 

“Hey Buck,” Steve’s rich voice cut through his wayward thoughts, and Bucky snapped his eyes back to that beautifully handsome face he had grown so fond of over the last few months. His heart was pounding already from the anticipated fight, and seeing this shock of sunshine in the middle of a dark alley, that flawless mouth widen into a grin at his appearance, wasn’t helping it slow down any.

 

“Let’s take care of this first, then we’ll talk, yah?” Steve didn’t wait for a response before taking off down the alley, Bucky closing his gaping fish mouth before following closely at his heels.

 

* * *

 

The cops had finished loading the last of the three assailants into the cruiser by the time Steve had stepped away from the ambulance, giving one more supportive clap on the back to the would-be mugging victim. The man had walked away with only minor injuries, Steve and Bucky having shown up before anything more lethal had taken place. The guy hadn’t been nearly as upset about his misfortune when he realized he’d gotten the attention of Captain America that night, and Steve had been more than gracious in letting the man snap a photo before he was sent on his way to provide his police statement. Bucky couldn’t really blame the guy; He probably would’ve thrown himself into traffic in hopes of a rescue if he’d ever come across Steve walking down the street.

 

Steve had finally reached Bucky where he was leaning against the side of a building, propping himself up next to him with a quiet groan before nudging him with a shoulder playfully.

 

“Not exactly how I wanted to say hello tonight,” Steve opened with a wry chuckle.

 

“So what exactly was the plan tonight Steve?” Bucky only slightly succeeded in keeping the ice out of his voice. Steve wasn’t his _boyfriend,_ they were just two people who liked to hang out a lot and kiss and go out together. They had never put a name to what they were doing, or a label on what they were to each other. If Steve was back in town and hadn’t told Bucky, that was just... What it was. Steve didn’t owe him anything. That logic didn’t stop a bitter taste from rising in his throat though, or an unexplainable ache from shooting through his chest at the thought.

 

Steve must have quickly picked up on his mood though, as he shifted quickly and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s slightly rigid torso.

 

“The plan,” Steve started, before pressing a soft kiss his to his forehead, “had been to surprise this super sexy SWAT team guy I know at work with his favourite coffee. Until I spilled it on myself in the pursuit of back-alley justice, of course.”

 

Bucky glanced down at the small space between them, and indeed, Steve’s tight white t-shirt was muddied by what smelled suspiciously like a Caramel Macchiato. With extra whip. Because Steve was an awesome not-boyfriend.

 

“I got off the plane less than an hour ago. I figured a surprise coffee was better than a text?” Steve raised his voice a little at the end, seemingly unsure of his actions now that Bucky was in front of him. What a dope.

 

“You are such a dope.” Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled Steve in for a much needed kiss, Steve melting against him as Bucky ran his hands through cornsilk hair. They parted easily a few minutes later before Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and started tugging him in the direction of his apartment.

 

“Back-alley justice, my ass.” he muttered under his breath, causing Steve’s smile to burst brighter than those stupid obstacle course fireworks he had set up. Steve didn’t respond, just tightened his grip on Bucky hand as they headed towards home together.

 

* * *

 

Steve winced as he sat down on what was quickly becoming his spot on the futon, and that was all it took.

 

“Jesus fuck, Steve.” Bucky was at his side and lifting up the edge of his still slightly coffee-damp shirt, investigating the damage Steve had neglected to mention.

 

Sickly purple-yellow bruises were smattered across his ribs and torso, the darkest of the muddy coloured patches causing Bucky to inhale sharply with concern. Feather light fingertips drifted across Steve’s skin and he closed his eyes for a moment as Bucky’s hands ghosted across the damage.

 

“It’s not so bad Buck.” Steve spoke quietly, eyes still closed, not wanting to break whatever vibe had suddenly overtaken the moment. “It’ll heal soon.”

 

Bucky looked up sharply at this, taking in just how worn down Steve actually looked, voice going hard in contrast to the gentle hands that continued to glide over him. “Just because you heal quickly, doesn’t mean you don’t hurt.” His voice brokered no argument there, and Steve was too tired at the moment to try anyways. He had been up for around 50 hours at this point he was pretty sure, maybe closer to 60, and he had been in active combat for much of that time. Time was funny. His shirt was starting to stick to him. He probably needed a nap. Or coffee. He had had coffee, before, but he’d spilled it on himself. Bucky liked extra whip. Back-alley justice.

 

“Up.” Bucky commanded, and Steve’s exhausted mind and body jumped to comply. Orders were easy. Steve was a soldier, and even when he could hardly string two coherent thoughts together for himself, he could follow an order. He was on his feet in an instant, ready for Bucky to take the reins, and he let his brain flicker off for a relieving moment. Bucky was here, and would look after Steve. It was as simple as that.

 

“Where else does it hurt?” Bucky’s tone was back to soothing as he easily guided Steve’s arms up to help him pull the t-shirt off without further damaging his ribs.

 

Steve took a moment to venture back into his mind and assess his body. He was pretty used to detaching from himself as he waited for the serum to knit his skin and bones back together, and knew that while that probably wasn’t the healthiest choice, it was the one he usually made. He hadn’t really had… this, before. Just the white, sterile exam rooms in whatever SHIELD base was closest, cool unknown hands patching him up with detached efficiency. It worked, and his body always healed, but it wasn’t _this,_ and never would be.

 

“Ribs, back, and forearms, mostly.” Steve finished his internal assessment and finally answered quietly. His shield had been knocked away at one point on the mission and he had been forced to block incoming blows with his arms as much as possible, but more than a few had snuck through to his upper body. He had taken what he would describe as an acceptable level of damage, considering it had been him versus twenty at the time. Not the nicest odds ever, but he had had worse. And he’d won in the end, so there was that.

 

“Hmmm.” Bucky’s mumble-noise didn’t give much away to Steve, but he thought Bucky might be unhappy about this. He had answered the question, so he didn’t really know why he was upset. He hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was hard to keep his thoughts in order though, as warm hands continued their delicate motions.

 

“Do you think you can manage a shower Steve?” Bucky was speaking quietly again, and Steve needed to pay attention.

 

“Yes, I can do it.” Steve would listen and follow directions and make Bucky smile again. Because Bucky deserved the best.

 

Bucky rewarded him with a small, sweet curve of the lips and a nod before leading Steve to the bathroom, turning the shower spray on hot and setting out a clean, fluffy looking towel. Everything about Bucky was so fluffy. His towels. His clothes. His hair. Had Bucky ever even seen his hair? It was so fluffy. How?

 

“Steve.” Bucky had apparently left at some point and had returned with a pair of sweatpants. “Take a shower, then we’ll get you patched up, fed, and ready for bed.”

 

Steve nodded and accepted the clothes with a grin. “You rhymed,” he teased, face turning pink as the room filled with shower steam.

 

“Oh my god Steve.” Bucky said in that way that was supposed to sound like he was frustrated with Steve, but actually meant he was happy and liked him. It was a good feeling. Steve liked when he got to make that voice happen.

 

Steve took his shower and wandered into the kitchen when he was done, a glorious smell encouraging him to investigate in that particular direction.

 

Bucky stood at the stovetop, barefoot in his own pair of sweats with a thin, soft t-shirt advising he had survived the Barnes Family Reunion of 2012, long hair pulled haphazardly into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. He lifted a ladle from a pot on the stove, closing his eyes briefly as he tasted the flavour, and Steve was suddenly struck with his first ever case of spoon envy.

 

Bucky raised his eyes from the pot and took Steve in as he moved towards the counter, cheeks growing a little red as Steve approached. He was probably standing too close to the heat of the stove, Steve thought absently.

 

Bucky cleared his throat before he turned the heat off and washed his hands, picking up a first aid kit that had miraculously appeared on the counter from somewhere. Bucky had Steve lift his arms up and out as he carefully applied an arnica cream to the worst of the bruises. The cream felt good, smooth and cool, when applied with a warm hand. He was given an equally soft shirt, this one exclaiming ‘I know the way to San Jose’ (Steve was proud that he got that reference) and while it wasn’t the most perfect fit, it smelled like Bucky and felt comfortable against his skin.  

 

He was led to the bed ( _“Only special injured occasions call for meals in bed Steve. Don’t get used to this.”_ ) where a large bottle of water and a huge bowl of gnocchi with a deliciously creamy sauce was placed in his hands the minute he was tucked up under the covers. Steve devoured his portion and was out like a light before Bucky came back from placing the dishes in the sink.

 

Bucky placed a gentle kiss on one super-soldier forehead before crawling under the covers himself and nestling up to Steve, his own sleep following moments later.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was warm all over, a comfortable weight pressing down on his side, body loose and relaxed. He burrowed a little further into the blankets before rolling over to face the heat source next to him, a small smile appearing on his face as he took in his bedmate.

 

Steve was still asleep, face mashed into the pillow, arm thrown heavily over Bucky’s ribs. His blond hair was sticking up in a hundred different directions, lips slightly pink and cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bed, lending him a youthful, carefree appearance.  

 

Bucky shifted closer and Steve’s arm tightened around him automatically, letting out a pleased little huff of air as Bucky lifted a hand in an attempt to tame the soft blond rebellion overtaking his head. It didn’t accomplish much, but Steve melted into the touch like a cat, so Bucky kept up the motion for a few more minutes.

 

Soon enough, clear blue eyes blinked slowly open, a smile rivaling dawn breaking across Steve’s gorgeous features as he took in the man next to him. Bucky swallowed a little at the raw emotion nakedly displayed on his face. Seeing that easy, unshakeable trust mixed with unfiltered joy had him needing to take a breath before speaking.

 

Steve was. Well.

 

Steve was everything.

 

“Morning.” Bucky spoke a little roughly, and Steve’s eyes dilated slightly just from his tone, a subtle shift of his body causing Bucky’s stomach to flutter with interest. It reminded Bucky of Steve preparing to fight, an unconscious controlled centering of himself, but with none of the same intent behind it. No aggression was apparent here, only disciplined strength. Steve was at home in his body, and knew exactly how to use it. That knowledge sent a tiny shiver through Bucky’s spine. He had seen that careful intensity displayed full force before, with the downtown attack, the tactical village, hell, even in the way he controlled his motorcycle. Steve had the potential to inflict so much damage, and he knew it, from the way he held Bucky oh so carefully in his arms.

 

“Morning beautiful,” Steve replied quietly, and yep, Bucky felt tingles right down to his toes, like champagne had suddenly infused his bloodstream, effervescent and light.

 

He continued to stare dopily into those clear blue eyes until Steve shifted into a more upright position, kissing him sweetly before a more serious expression overtook his face, quelling Bucky’s heightened desire momentarily.

 

“I wanted to apologize for last night. Making you look after me. I’ve never-” Steve cut off, seemingly at a loss for words, gaze settling on the sheets beneath him.

 

Bucky's heart was set to explode any moment now. “Steve.” The soft tone of his voice drew those summer blue eyes back up to his face. “Please never apologize for that. For needing some help once in awhile. I wanted to. For you.”

 

The expression on Steve’s face had Bucky forcing a lump of emotion down in his throat. He had only made him dinner and cleaned him up. It was nothing, really. Not compared to what Steve did for the world every day, what he did for Bucky every day.

 

The weight of the moment hung between them before Bucky pulled him in for a long kiss. _“I love you,”_ he wanted to say. _“You’re everything to me.”_

 

He decided to lighten the mood instead, nipping playfully at Steve’s bottom lip before he pulled back. “Besides,” he teased with an affectionate eye roll, “there was no sense in waking your night nurse if I was around anyways, old man.”

 

“Oh ho, that’s how it’s gonna be, is it?” Steve’s ribs must have healed faster than he thought possible, as Bucky was suddenly pinned to the mattress with one super soldier straddling his thighs, Steve holding his arms above his head in a way that short-circuited whatever witty remark he had been about to throw out next.

 

“I’ll show you ‘old man’” Steve continued grumpily, the sudden thrust of his hips against Bucky’s own and the overwhelming smile that lit his face betraying his actual feelings (grumpy definitely wasn’t on the list.)

 

A laugh bubbled out of Bucky’s chest before quickly dissolving into a moan, his lungs gasping and spine arching as Steve moved above him, their forms aligning perfectly as their kisses deepened.

 

Slowly, clothing was removed, bodies were held close in motion and ecstasy, and the last of the barriers between them were finally broken down.  

 

* * *

 

As Bucky began making his way up the street to start his shift later that day, a flutter in his chest and a dopey smile plastered on his face, he realized that for the first time in months he had gone to bed without worrying about finding Alexander Pierce.

 

He needn’t have been concerned though. Because shortly before he made it to the precinct, Alexander Pierce found him instead.

 

* * *

 

Steve put his fist through the wall when the call came through.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hangers are the devil's plot device, so the final chapter will be posted immediately after this one! Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final scene! Thank you all again so much for reading, I would love to hear what you think in the comments! Hope you enjoy!

He woke up slowly, head pounding, throat dry, nausea and nerves swirling uncontrollably in his belly.

 

He wouldn’t panic. Wouldn’t. Not even with his arms and legs strapped to a chair, pain radiating through his entire body.

 

Not even when he was sure his left arm was fucked, a weird spasm of nerves and shocks twisting their way down his side.

 

Not even when Pierce entered the room, a look on his face that Bucky had seen before, a look that promised payback.

 

Not even when Brock Rumlow entered behind him, and everything clicked into place.

 

Bucky closed his eyes.

 

He breathed.

 

He wouldn’t panic.

 

* * *

 

His last thoughts before passing out were unfortunately both regrets: not whispering those three important words that morning, and a wish that he had looked into a shitty old apartment complex himself.

 

* * *

 

It was night when they found him.

 

He was tired and everything hurt and his head wanted to loll to the side a little, so Bucky gave in and let it droop, good posture be damned.

 

Blood was dripping in his eyes and hair was hanging in his face, but he didn't miss the sight of the star spangled shield as it blasted its way through the crowd of thugs surrounding him, a furious Captain following closely behind.

 

A smile twitched on his lips.  

 

Steve fucking Rogers.

 

Always interrupting his missions.

 

* * *

 

_[ 3 months later]_

 

Bucky was sprawled on their bed, eyes dark and cheeks flushed with desire, skin pale against the dark navy sheets, and it the most beautiful thing Steve had ever witnessed. He took a moment to drink in the sight, preserving the memory. This man, this intelligent, witty, beautifully strong man was laying himself bare for Steve, trust radiating out from him in waves, only a few short months after the hell on earth Pierce had put him through.

 

Steve took a breath and turned his thoughts away from that day. Never again, he vowed. He instead concentrated on the man before him, the moments that had led up to this, here and now, that combined to make Bucky the man he was.

 

He had seen Bucky at work; determined and focused with an iron will to succeed, to protect, level-headed bravery through and through. He had also witnessed him in more casual environments; cheshire-cat grin on his face as he and Sam mocked Steve’s choice of clothing (corduroy was still a perfectly acceptable material in Steve’s mind), laughing so hard at a lame joke of Steve’s that he almost choked on a sip of his milkshake, passed out on their couch with a book on his chest on a Sunday afternoon. Steve had seen him a thousand different ways since their first meeting all those months ago, sharing his successes and joys, holding him close on the days his recovery had made it difficult to leave the bed. Seeing this Bucky, this exposed, vulnerable, trusting Bucky, had Steve pushing down a lump of emotion in his throat. He could hardly believe he deserved such a man, could never think he had something to offer someone with such multifaceted depths.

 

“You’re not about to get all weepy on me again, are you _sir_?” Bucky raised one brow, a pleased cat-about-to-get-the-cream smile on his face, drawing Steve from his thoughts. Today had been a good day, and Steve wouldn’t let his mind venture down those dark roads.

 

He grinned down at his boyfriend and moved, pinning him more closely to the mattress.

 

“Not on your life, Sargent.”

 

* * *

 

Later, all wrapped up in the sheets, Bucky smiled as he propped himself up on one elbow to better observe his gorgeous, stubborn, blanket-hogging boyfriend.

 

Steve was currently wrapped almost completely in the duvet, his golden hair poking out the top of his self-made burrito. Stomach grumbling loudly, he slowly rolled his mass of blankets and muscle even closer to Bucky, one troublesome arm escaping the folds to wrap around Bucky’s waist pleadingly.

 

“Buckkkkk.” Steve didn’t have to voice his request any further, Bucky knew the look of an exaggeratedly hungry super soldier when he saw one.

 

“Jesus Christ Steve, yes, I’ll get you breakfast.”

 

“In bed?” Wide blue eyes somehow became impossibly bluer and wider.

 

Bucky fixed him with the sternest look he could summon, which was maybe kinda slightly more along the lines of a soft and fuzzy look, his ‘personal milky way’ face that he hadn't been able to drop lately. Since Steve had happened.

 

“Fine, yes, ok. But this is the last time Steve, I swear to god. Now, how do you take your Corn Flakes?”

 

Steve’s smile was like the light of a thousand suns.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to believe that Bucky brings Steve breakfast in bed for the next 50 years, even though “meals in bed are only for special injured occasions, this is definitely the very last time this is ever happening Steve."
> 
> I'd also like to mention that in the end, I have never had either of them actually say "I love you" to the other, but I think the fact that they're stupidly, madly in love is implied by the time Steve rescues Bucky, and they both know it. They also probably each said it like ten thousand times when Steve hauled Bucky out of the chair. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
